


slide along

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Chronic Pain, Friendship, Gen, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Battle of Rose Creek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Red takes a break from helping to rebuild Rose Creek. Faraday joins him.
Relationships: Joshua Faraday & Red Harvest
Kudos: 17





	slide along

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon on tumblr: Could you write a Joshua Faraday and Red Harvest friendship fic for mag7?

“Hey. Move up.”

The bench Red Harvest was resting on was not made for two people in his opinion. It barely held enough space for him, the wood blackened and littered with bullet holes but reclaimed with a certain sense of pride by the inhabitants of Rose Creek. 

He squinted up at Faraday, the other man’s face cast mostly in shadow but Red could pick out the tight lines around the corners of his mouth and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow. The image of Faraday in the aftermath of the battle was still fresh in Red’s mind — painfully white bone jutting through the mess of dark red burns, eyes open and staring and looking at nothing — and he swallowed back the bile that rose reflexively in his throat.

Red shuffled up the bench regardless, clearing a section for Faraday to fold himself into, teeth gritted and his head ducked to hide the spasms of pain that the action brought. Faraday sighed as he settled down in the small gap Red was able to make — a sigh that echoed like the wind across the plains. He settled an arm across the back, warmth radiating from his skin, but careful not to overtly touch Red, even as they were pressed together from knee to hip.

“Thought you’d be out celebrating still,” Faraday grumbled, carefully working a matchbook out of his shirt pocket. Red watched him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t offer any help.

Faraday was a proud man, after all.

“Why?” Red replied instead. A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned to watch a small group of townspeople walk down the street. They were about his age, two women and a man, clothes neat and pressed — what Goodnight had called ‘Sunday best’ when the man had finally charmed the nurse into letting him sit by the window — and Red’s fingers itched for a moment to disrupt that.

“Well, there is three reasons,” Faraday chuckled, striking a match with one hand that flared into life with a hiss, only to snap out a curse. He dropped it in an instant, pressing his newly burnt fingertips into his mouth. “How many times have they walked past here since you sat outside?”

“This makes six.”

Faraday threw back his head to laugh, the sound vibrating through Red’s chest and causing the bench beneath them to vibrate. Red set his feet against the floor, steadying them as subtly as he could. The muscles in his legs visibly flexed as he did so, and he heard a chorus of muffled yelps. Glancing up, he caught sight of a pink flush blossoming across a trio of faces as they stumbled away, hanging onto each other. This only made Faraday laugh harder, his cheeks turned pink with the effort, a strange hitch distorting the noise as he struggled for breath, his hand brushing against Red’s back as he moved to brace himself. 

“That’s gonna take some getting used to,” he gasped, knuckles turned white on the patched knees of his jeans, the previously tight fabric bunching underneath his grip. 

Red carefully didn’t look, tracking the slow movement as Faraday relaxed back against the wall of the house, listening to the crackle of his breath and the hiss as the match lit and took, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air. Faraday lit the cigarette with a bitten-off curse, muscle memory overriding what his eyes could see for a moment, trying to hold the cigarette with fingers he no longer had. 

“Want one?” 

Red tilted his head as he considered it. He could almost taste the sweet smoke in the back of his throat, remembering a handful of evenings tucked into a corner table with Goodnight and Billy away from prying eyes as the two men smoked enough to blanket the air, Billy’s feet set carefully into Goodnight’s lap and hidden by the cover of the table. 

“No. Thank you.”

Faraday shrugged, the motion comfortably settling them back into an easy, silent companionship. Red lazily watched the clouds slip across the sun, alleviating the baking heat of the early morning — cracking the earth that he had toiled upon, trying to smoothe over the scars of the battle — as Faraday blew clumsy smoke rings towards the sky. 

“You should come to the Saloon later,” Faraday said after a while, his cigarette reduced to a careful stub. “It’d keep Goodnight on his toes.”

  
  


Red had seen them in the evenings when he couldn’t face any more human contact — the light spilling from the windows acting like a signal fire — with their heads bowed in quiet contemplation, almost like they were attending the newly constructed church. It was a familiar scene to him, one that pulled on something deep inside Red’s chest, a longing for a home he could never return to. “I don’t know the game.”

Faraday’s grin was impossibly bright, a light that Red hadn’t realised was missing entering his eyes. “I can teach you.”

He leant closer to Red as he tried to pull something else from his pocket, his skin fever-warm and eyes slightly unfocused as he worked from touch alone. Red hummed quietly beneath his breath, breathing in the scent of whiskey and smoke that clung to Faraday like a coat. 

“Here.” Faraday brandished a deck of cards with a grin that threatened to split his face in two, the cards slipping slightly through his adjusted grip as he knocked them into some semblance of order. “It’s been a—” He paused with a grimace, every muscle tensing as he braced himself for the pain to continue, “—a while since I’ve done my normal tricks but…”

The cards danced across his hands, a living ribbon of travel worn blue mixed in with muted red. Red could still see the slight hesitancy in his movements, the fumbled gaps made worse by the damage to his hands, but it was still breathtaking. 

“How did you do that?” Red demanded, turning to face Faraday fully. He held out his hands for the cards, smoothing his fingers over the soft, marked edges. 

“Oh, we are going to have fun,” Faraday laughed, clapping Red on the shoulder. “Now, what are you wanting to learn first?”

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!  
> 


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